Attractive History Students and Artistic Leprechauns
by Conigliomannaro
Summary: Roxas drank and cursed like a sailor, got drunk like ten teenage girls getting drunk, and once intoxicated he liked to sing in an oddly well tuned voice some of Metallica's greatest hits. (...) Roxas was as drunk as an army of drunk children, Axel himself was slurring words, and the old sketchpad embarrassment seemed long forgotten. Akuroku silliness for a friend's bday.


This is a birthday gift for Kett on Tumblr. Cheers to all the students who had long and terrible oral exams in University. I'm really glad I'm outta that.  
>Betaed by Caseyvalhalla.<p>

* * *

><p>Axel never saw him take notes.<p>

The blond kid sat somewhere in the middle rows, a little to the left, and spent the entire time drawing. Axel would know. His roommate was dating an art student - he could recognize what those long winded pencil marks were for. Certainly, they weren't to jot down notes about the Bay of Pigs Invasion, or the motives behind the Balkan wars. Kid was drawing, that was for sure.

A small thing, that artist guy, five foot six of terrible bed hair and oversized pants draping along big skater shoes. An old military backpack he carried swung over his left shoulder - always the left - and a clear obsession with black and white checkered sweaters. Finish Flag Guy, Axel had grown used to calling him in his mind, sitting at the teacher's desk while Xigbar Morales - resident legend and history professor of the campus - lectured the audience and cracked jokes that made most of the students laugh. Only a few chuckles were sycophant: Xigbar's sense of humor was nothing short of genius, at times.

The class laughed, and Finish Flag Guy smirked too, eyes still trailed to his sketchbook.

Axel wondered why his gaze kept falling on that one. Cute, of course, in that baby-faced way some freshmen could be, at least until they vomited on your lap at a party or in a bar; still, nothing special, if not for the shade of gold of his hair.

That was one fairly mesmerizing tone of blonde.

* * *

><p>"Mister Strife," mister Morales called out suddenly, his lecture coming to a screeching halt as he stilled his pacing and turned swiftly to face the crowd. To highlight his words, he aimed his laser pointer at the aforementioned student, the red dot landing in the perfect centre of Mister Finish Flag's cowlick. The guy was face down, doodling, and made a point not to snap his head up when his name was called. Axel looked down to the roll call for the name 'Strife'. Roxas. Mister Finish Flag's name was Roxas. The more you know. "Can you tell me," Xigbar picked up when Roxas finally looked away from his sketchpad, "The name and face of Solidarnosść's success?"<p>

"Innit Walesa?" Roxas answered right away, cocking his head on a side with a cheeky expression. Axel suppressed a smirk, scribbled a little plus next to the 'Strife' on the roll call.

"It was, indeed," Professor Morales nodded; he would try to catch Roxas off guard, Axel knew his game. "Remember the name?"

"Lech," Roxas added. "Elected president of Poland in 1990. He and the old-old pope were buddies."

Axel added two more pluses next to his name, casting him a curious glance. Mister Finish Flag seemed to be pretty well versed in contemporary history: Xigbar hadn't touched Walesa's Poland yet. Axel knew that - bratty attitude aside - the professor was really, really intrigued with him. "Impressive, mister Strife," Xigbar commented briefly. Roxas gave an exaggerated nod of his head in reverence, and Axel had suppress another chuckle. "But I will catch you off guard, one day. Mark my words."

"I shall write it down somewhere," Roxas shrugged, going back to his sketchpad and whatever he was drawing.

Axel was tempted to add another plus - just because he liked assholes - but he was pretty sure his help would not be of use: Roxas was either going to pass that class with flying colours, or crash and burn before the first midterm.

Either way, one hell of a show.

"Mister Strife," Professor Morales called. Roxas was sitting in a different seat, this morning, but Xigbar hadn't missed him. He had either taking a liking to the kid, or he hated his guts; either way, he always shot him at least one question for every class. "What is your opinion on Stalin's Five-year plans for the national economy of the Soviet Union?"

Axel blinked, casted a perplexed glance at Xigbar's direction. Okay, that was not fair.

Roxas looked up from his sketchpad, gave a small smug smirk, then leaned back into his seat. "Take a seat, professor," he said with an impudent grin. "This is going to take a while."

By the end of class, Roxas had two more pluses next to his surname on Axel's list.

Damn.

* * *

><p>Axel walked in on professor Morales' office holding their coffees and a stack of unmarked papers. He handed Xigbar his black coffee, sat at his desk. "Since when do I grade papers?" he asked good naturedly.<p>

"You're my assistant. Assist me," Xigbar huffed, glaring at the paper in his hands. "If I read another essay that looks like a fairy tale with the good boys kicking the bad boys' ass I'm going off to get drunk."

Axel snickered. "You asked them to write six pages about the Berlin Wall. You can't expect much depth in five pages."

"Strife gave me an outstanding analysis of Zola's J'accuse in under three minutes." Xigbar muttered stubbornly.

Axel snorted. "Well, okay," he conceded. "But Strife is not your average freshman."

"I know," Xigbar hummed. He propped his feet on his desk. "I need to find out what the hell he's always drawing on that sketchbook," he muttered. "I can never trip him. But one day I'll ask a question he can't answer, I know it."

"I wanna reassure you, Mr Morales, that you totally don't sound like Sylvester talking about Tweety," Axel said with a chuckle.

Xigbar fixed a miffed amber eye on him, and Axel smothered a chuckle in the rim of his paper coffee cup.

Not that he wasn't curious about that sketchbook - he was; but Roxas guarded it like it was his very own child. Axel's hopes to succeed weren't high.

Until the day of the finals.

* * *

><p>Xigbar came from the old continent and liked to do things his way: finals with professor Morales usually were long, oral, and involved a multitude of people frantically studying in the audience while the interrogee sweat buckets at the teacher's desk. Xigbar had his own way of handling exams, and usually, it was kind of a shock just how long things could go on with him. One would think that, having to interview over one hundred people each time, his exams would be quick and straight to the point; but Xigbar was only really brief when he got bored. If the student was smart, had a good intuition, or could do better, he'd pursue the matter until he deemed they had proved themselves enough; if the student did bad, also, the exam would take really long: more questions, more chances to pick oneself up, to make it through the class without failing.<p>

And then, once in a blue moon, there was a student like Roxas.

Xigbar kept him for last. He had big plans, and every time he called someone up for the interrogation, Roxas pursed his lips nervously. Axel noticed, looking up at him, that Roxas - oddly enough - wasn't doodling. He was reviewing notes - whose? Not his, that was for sure - head down on the pad in front of him. When he looked up, he locked eyes with Axel, and Axel sent him a smile. He would have liked to tell him to take it easy, that with how he handled himself through the entire class he would get out of there with a bright A+, but a smile can only say so much. He turned back to Xigbar and the student he was interviewing, some small black haired girl who spoke with the tiniest voice, and he looked her name down in his notepad. Xion, there she was. Next to the name, Xigbar had scribbled a note. "'They' pronouns. Do not use gendered sobriquets."

Axel looked up at the small person in the chair briefly. Alright, no 'she' and no 'sweetheart'. Checking the other notes next to their name, they had just three pluses and one minus. Evidently, they hadn't stood out much, in class. Unfortunately, they'd have to prove themselves clearly now, and they looked frightened like a baby bird. Axel hated these kinds of interviews: people who studied, who deserved to pass, and who sometimes flunked just because they were too anxious to open their mouth.

Maybe, a break was in order.

* * *

><p>The coffee at the vending machine down the hall wasn't bad, and with a cigarette right after, Axel felt like a new man.<p>

It was cold, outside the History complex, and his breath puffed in clouds just as much as the smoke did. He was leaning against a wall, minding his own business, when something small and blonde caught his attention turning the corner on the left. Mister Finish Flag guy, a coffee in his right hand and a chocolate bar in the other, was walking toward the History Dept. door muttering under his breath, eyes trained to his own shoes. When he got close to the door he looked up, saw Axel, and seemed to change his mind. He left the door handle alone and walked up to him, stuffing the chocolate bar in his pocket. "Hey," he said.

It was the first time he and Axel ever spoke directly to each other.

"Hey," Axel greeted back.

"Axel, right?" Roxas asked. He took a sip of coffee, and a bit of its foam got stuck to the tip of his nose. It was sort of cute. "Mister Sullivan, maybe? What with the fact that you're technically still my teacher at least until I pass the exam and all, right?"

"Yeah," Axel replied with a smile. "Taking a break. Myosotis, in there, is getting their ass handed to them. Was getting awkward to watch."

Roxas scowled, shook his head. "Ah, fuck it. They studied a lot. I've got their notes, they're pretty well done."

"Yeah, but unfortunately they've kind of flown under the radar in class, so they've got to do well in here or they're going to fail the class."

"It sucks," Roxas muttered. Then he looked curiously at Axel, hummed. "Where did I fly, instead?"

"You could have been more noticeable just if you came to class naked and covered in intermittent colored Christmas lights," Axel said with a smirk. He took his last drag of cigarette and put it out in an ashtray nearby. "Oh, by the way, you're scheduled to be interviewed last, so go do something and stop stressing. I've seen you reviewing notes. Don't. You're going to fry your head by the time it's your turn."

"I'm afraid I'm the kind of person who doesn't get anxious until the very last moment, and then needs to make up for all the stress he missed out on along the way," Roxas shrugged.

"You could draw," Axel suggested, "If it relaxes you."

Roxas looked at him with a slightly surprised, slightly nervous look to his eyes, and suddenly seemed sheepish. He fidgeted a little on his feet, and Axel wasn't sure - it could have been the cold - but there could have been a touch of new pink spreading on his cheeks. Finally, Roxas smiled. "You noticed, mh?" he said. Which was a pretty dumb thing to say, really.

"Well, you never were very subtle about it," Axel shrugged with a laugh. "It was kinda hard to miss. What did you even draw so urgently, all the time?"

Roxas shrugged, the red on his cheeks a little more noticeable and his eyes avoiding Axel's, scanning away through the distance in a forcedly casual way. "Constellations, mostly. A very bright star. You know, pretty stuff."

Axel was a little perplexed, but he didn't insist.

"I should go back inside," he said. "It's been a while."

Roxas nodded. "I'll be right back too," he said. "Gonna stuff my face with chocolate and then come back for more pre-exam stress."

Axel chuckled and walked back in.

As if Roxas had anything to worry about.

* * *

><p>It was a very long day. By the end of it, Roxas was the only one left, outside it was dark, and Axel was so tired he had dozed off a couple times. His head was pounding, and even Roxas looked in a similar condition. The interrogation went well - of course - but it lasted very long. It was way past the usual closing time, and by the time Roxas left with an A+, they were all just about ready to jump in bed and sleep for twelve hours. Mister Finish Guy, especially, seemed to be high with adrenaline and the aftermath of anxiety, and looked lethargic and drowsy. Axel knew that feeling: if nothing else happened, Roxas was going to go home, eat his own weight in mac and cheese, and then go to bed and sleep.<p>

Axel and Xigbar had to write down all the marks and take care of some things before they could leave, so at some point he left to go get themselves both a cup of coffee.

When Axel came back, Xigbar was grinning knowingly from ear to ear. He had a sketchpad in his hands, and it took Axel just a couple takes to recognize Roxas'. He blinked in surprise - the kid had to be really baked to leave it behind - and tilted his head. "You shouldn't look at it."

"Done and done," Xigbar shrugged. "Maybe you shouldn't. Or maybe you should."

Axel looked at him a little warily, humming. "I don't like it when you have that look in your eyes," he said. "Plus I already know what's in it. Roxas says he draws stars and constellations."

Xigbar's eyes shone. "Constellations?" he asked before cracking into a laugh. "Oh my god, that lil' smart, ridiculous, sappy queer thing," he exclaimed. "Now I'm even more convinced you should take a look."

Axel put the coffees on the counter and took the pad from Xigbar's hands.

He flipped the pages slowly, keeping his eyes trained on Xigbar's smirk for a few seconds before looking down, and when he did, he gaped.

Stars? Those were all portraits - details, headshots, full figure pictures - of the exact same subject.

Every single one was a picture of Axel.

Roxas had filled up an entire sketchbook with him.

Axel's stomach did a somersault, and it got a little hard to breathe. He was feeling a little overwhelmed.

* * *

><p>When Axel walked out of the history department, there were one thousand questions ruffling around in his head. Actually, it wasn't so much questions as confusion, but he was still sort of disoriented; unsettled. Flattered, of course, but also a little bit taken aback. Why had Roxas spoken of constellations? It was an oddly specific thing to say, especially if he was making up stuff from the top of his head.<p>

He decided to stop by at the campus cafe, at the end of the street, and got himself something nice and warm, very creamy and rather sweet. The cold had sort of woken him up a little bit, but he was still rather tired; he just wasn't sleepy any more, but the idea of walking home still felt like an epic feat.

He saw Roxas run up from the side road just ten minutes after. He had an expression of pure horror on his face, and was running with his scarf all to one side - about to fall off - and his coat wide open. He was heading for the history department, and Axel called out for him before he could think about it. "It's closed," he shouted at Roxas' address. Then, his brain caught up with the situation. Roxas was looking for his sketchpad. A sketchpad that was in Axel's backpack, waiting to be dropped off at the lost and found.

Awesome. Just awesome.

Roxas stopped dead in his tracks, turned to look at Axel still gasping for breath, cheeks beet red and hair even more ruffled than usual. There was a slightly mortified edge to his look, and for a moment Axel thought Roxas was about to turn around and leave; then, the small kid took a few tentative steps toward him, and Axel reached into his backpack for Roxas' sketchpad. He pulled it out just when Roxas was a few feet away, and the look of sheer horror on his face made Axel feel a little bit guilty.

"Were you looking for this?" he asked. He hoped his tone was reassuring, because he could see the panic in Roxas' eyes. "Professor Morales found it while we were transcribing marks, said it was yours."

Roxas' eyes, wide in horror on the sleek black surface of the pad, darted up to warily look at Axel's face. He looked like he was trying to assess what he was just told.

"You haven't seen what's inside it?" he asked. The underlying tone of hope would have been hard to miss. Axel decided to play along.

"No, I was going to take it to the lost and found," he said casually. "Is it yours?"

"Yes," Roxas said urgently, reaching out and grabbing the pad off of Axel's hands. "Yeah, it's my doodle pad."

"I'd like to see your stuff," Axel said before he could help it. "Even just out of curiosity. You seemed pretty engrossed in it, during Xigbar's lectures."

"I…" Roxas seemed apologetic. "I don't do well with taking notes. I always fall behind, I can't write very fast. So I just keep my hands busy with doodles while I listen. Like, I wasn't actually not paying attention."

"It wasn't a crit," Axel shrugged good naturedly. "Take a seat, I'll get you something warm to celebrate your A+."

Roxas did as he was told, sat down, and Axel passed him the drinks menu. He took it, looked at it briefly, and Axel pretended not to notice Roxas was studying him from over the top of the menu sheet.

"Did you really… really not take a look?" Roxas asked after a while, humming a little.

Axel looked at him and couldn't help a quick flick of his lips upwards. "No, I didn't."

Roxas pouted, something between a scowl and a defeated expression, and grumbled. "You did."

"I didn't, I said," Axel answered. The waitress walked by them, and he called her close. Then he turned to Roxas. "Have you decided what you wanna get?"

"Rum and cocoa," Roxas said, handing the girl his menu. "Make the hot chocolate extra creamy and extra chocolaty, please." Axel didn't speak. Roxas fidgeted a little on his seat, casted a dubious look at him, then - finally - he spoke again. "Would you like to?" he said, gesturing to the sketchpad. Axel was sort of surprised by that kind of request, and didn't know what to say. Then, finally, it dawned on him that maybe Roxas did not leave it behind on purpose - the panic Axel had seen in his eyes wasn't something one could fake - but now he sort of wished he did, because that would mean being forced to breach the topic - Roxas wanted to make a move.

Axel shrugged. That would buy him some time. He wondered if that kind of thing was legal, though he was pretty sure it was. Both adults, no longer teacher and student, roughly in the same age range. Axel's internship as Xigbar's assistant would expire in a few months. He was always intrigued by that little one - smug assholes, especially smart ones, always had a big appeal to him - but he never really set his mind to the concept itself: Roxas never gave him the impression of being interested in anything but his sketchpad. Considered the sketchpad's contents, of course, everything changed.

"Of course," he said in the end. "I'd love to."

Roxas passed him the sketchpad, immediately burying half his face in the mug of rum spiked hot chocolate the waitress brought him. He casted nervous glances at Axel every few seconds, and when Axel nonchalantly flipped the pages open, Roxas' frightful gaze against his face weighed a few tons more than usual.

The first page was a view of the classroom. Roxas had scribbled a few names across some students' backs. Xion's back bore the words 'they' and 'genderqueer', and Axel smiled. He evidently was the only one who missed the memo, up to that day.

He was there too, at the teacher's desk; he bore the tag 'TA: Axel Sullivan', and Roxas had scribbled on his chest 'Eyecandy'. He looked up at the kid, a brow raised questioningly, and Roxas buried his face in the hot chocolate again. His cheeks were getting a little red.

Axel was impressed by his nerve, really.

He flipped to the next page, and it was a scribble of Xion's profile. They looked really pretty. At the bottom of the page was written 'Xion=Forget me not in Japanese'. Okay.

"You're really good," Axel commented, hands off. Roxas gave him a strained smile and shrugged.

"Doodles, really. I-I could do better, I'm just a little lazy," he said.

Axel turned another page, and recognized the next scene as the morning Xigbar called in sick and asked him to deliver the lecture. It was the beginning of the course, and it was a pretty interesting morning. He had given a quick introductory lecture, then he had let the kids discuss, calling for opinions here and there. Unsurprisingly, most of the students were left winged, with a few very right winged exceptions. One actually proudly defined himself a 'fascist'.

Axel, grandson to an Italian immigrant who lost a brother in the civil war against nazifascism, thoroughly enjoyed letting Roxas - among others - rip the little ignorant asshole a new one.

The picture depicted exactly that moment: Axel sitting on the edge of the teacher's desk, a sly smirk on his face and arms folded on his chest. Roxas had scribbled underneath 'You're enjoying this aren't you asshole'. An arrow, on the right of the sketch, pointed at Axel and said 'Not only eyecandy, actually wicked smart'. Axel couldn't help a snort. "Too kind," he commented out loud, and Roxas leaned across the table to see what he was talking about. He laughed nervously.

"Your lecture was really interesting; and it was clear that when it got political you were having a lot of fun," he explained. He seemed to be dying to justify himself.

Axel looked up. "Isn't everything in contemporary history simply a reflection of politics?"

Roxas grimaced. "Please, truce. No more nerd stuff. I had a very long day."

Axel snorted and looked down again, turning another page. It was a collection of small dots; it didn't look like a pattern, more like - as Roxas said earlier - a starry sky. Axel furrowed his brows, until he casted a glance at the next page and saw the same pattern of dots zoomed out, the angle of a smile, a strand of hair. It sorta hit him in the face just a second later, when he realized that the constellation was a picture of his freckles.

Jesus, that was cheesy.

And cute.

And cheesy, really. Really, really cheesy.

And sweet.

Axel didn't comment, flipped the next pages a little quicker. From then on, it was always sketches of him - the detail of a pierced ear, the rattail he was wearing one day, a zoom-in on the seat of his pants, the line of his legs in those jeans that fit a little tighter than usual. His sturdy boots crusted with snow from the other week, the detail of a wide smile, an extreme closeup to his eyes. And every single sketch was accompanied by scribbled notes like 'fuck you', or 'stop being pretty i'm tryna learn stuff', or 'oh god'.

Axel was really, really impressed Roxas had the guts to show him that.

He looked up, and Roxas was done with his chocolate. He looked like he was on fire - half the nervousness, half the rum - and Axel couldn't help a wide grin. "Well, one sure can't say you don't have an impressive set of balls."

"Because I showed you the Stalker Sketchbook?" Roxas asked, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Yeah," Axel said. He was still smiling. Roxas seemed reassured. "Also, you really can draw."

"I can do better, with a model." Roxas said in a matter of fact tone. It evidently rolled out of his mouth without him meaning it to, because a second later his eyes widened and his mouth snapped shut. "I mean. Yeah. Well." he frowned, looked on a side, then snorted in amusement. "I am a disaster."

"Sort of," Axel agreed amused. "Never said I don't like disasters."

Roxas seemed relieved. "God bless your kind heart, mister Sullivan," he said with a grin.

Axel snorted. "Dude," he said, "You compared my freckles to constellations. We're way past 'Mister Sullivan'. Call me Axel."

"Okay, Axel," Roxas replied with a spreading beam. He looked a little sheepish still, but in a braver way; like he was gathering the courage to ask something, and when he finally did, Axel wasn't surprised in the slightest.

"Are you free for dinner?" Roxas muttered in anticipation. "There's a place nearby that makes wicked panini. On me."

Axel snorted. Panini. Ah, yes, two broke students living the dream.

But hey; why the hell not?

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Epilogue<strong>**

Roxas was small and feisty, Axel found out that night.

Roxas drank and cursed like a sailor, got drunk like ten teenage girls getting drunk, and once intoxicated he liked to sing in an oddly well tuned voice some of Metallica's greatest hits. At some point, Axel and Roxas found themselves sitting on a wall down by the riverbanks - neither of them was sure how they got there - and Roxas was raving about his landlord while Axel smoked a cigarette. Roxas was as drunk as an army of drunk children, Axel himself was slurring words, and the old sketchpad embarrassment seemed long forgotten. Axel flicked the cigarette into the river, and Roxas finally went quiet.

"I'm thirsty," he said.

Axel looked at him, raised a brow.

"If you drink one more glass you're going to need your stomach pumped," he said.

Roxas frowned in confusion and looked at him. His cheeks and nose were red, and he was wearing Axel's beanie, half of his face hidden under the thick layer of his scarf. He looked like a confused and miffed forest spirit. "Will not," the little blond leprechaun protested.

"Will do," Axel insisted.

"Will don't," Roxas huffed, butchering his sentence with a seven year old pout on his face. "And I'm cold."

"Let's go somewhere warm," Axel agreed. "I live nearby."

Roxas grinned slyly, a wicked look in his eyes. "Oh. Oooooh. Look who's trying to take lil' ol' me to their place to have their nasty way with me," he laughed. Axel snorted rolling his eyes. "You, sir, are a rascal."

"I can't believe you just called me a rascal," Axel laughed back. "And need I remind you you drew my ass and wrote underneath 'that's a booty and I'm the pirate'?"

Roxas cackled so loud and so abrupt it echoed through the distance. "I forgot about that one," he said between laughter.

"You're ridiculous," Axel snorted. Then, without really thinking much about it, he leaned in and pressed a dry kiss to Roxas' smile. He felt Roxas' breath stutter to a stop, and with a growing smile of his own, Axel pressed another smooch on the surprised line of Roxas' lips. Just at the third kiss, Roxas finally snapped out of it and grabbed a hold of Axel's coat. He pressed back against Axel, and it wasn't long before they deepened the kiss.

Roxas tasted of liquor - or maybe it was his breath - and kissed like an enthusiastic and hungry teenager. He kept moving closer and closer, and at some point they almost toppled over the wall and down the banks. They wobbled, and Roxas pulled away with a rather unmanly screech that had Axel breaking into laughter. He looked down at the riverbanks in the darkness, at the inky black of the water, and then looked up at Axel.

"Let's go to your place," he muttered. "I'm freezing my balls off."

Axel snorted. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" he said. "Those might come in handy, later."

Roxas cackled again.

* * *

><p>(The ending is smutty; all the stories I post here that contain a bit of smut get regularly deleted, so I'll pass posting the smutty part. You can read it on Ao3, under the username Conigliomannaro, same title.)<p> 


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